My Sober Dog

Let me tell you a tale of a little dog named Indy. She's a little bitch of a bitch who is my ride or die. She's traveled more on an airplane than most people. We go...together. One time, while I was drinking my usual umpteen glasses of wine on the airplane, she managed to crawl out of her carrier underneath the seat in front of me and journeyed across the aisle. I was eating pasta, but the guy across the aisle had chosen a "nice" piece of steak. She has her priorities.

Her priority #1 is me. She is with me through all of the pain, the sadness, the plummet, the rise...she is there. She used to go into the bathroom with me while I vomitted the night away and I'd wake up in the morning with her snuggling me on the floor. When I passed out drunk, she learned to slap me in the face sometimes so hard it left scratches or a busted lip to let me know she needed to go outside. She weighs about 10 lbs. Tiny. She is mine and I am hers.

Everyone speaks of a rock bottom...Whelp, I didn't have one. I had a handful of rock bottoms or a bucket full, rather. I rode a rollercoaster of ups and downs, bouts of control and loss of control for about a decade. But, I can remember the exact moment where I thought, "I don't want to be this person." It was a simple moment. It was not anything traumatizing like other reasons I had to quit. But, I was starting to slip. The responsibility I had to my loved ones was waning. After a midday sparkling wine drinkfest, I passed out for a midday nap after a midday blackout that lasted a few hours and a few locations. I found a bed because blacked out me always found her bed. The problem-everything between the start of the blackout to waking up in said bed was gone due to the black out. What I realized when I woke up was I left my car door wide open. I left my dog on the front porch. For hours she sat next to the front door. She waited. She could've gone to the neighbors. She could've wandered off. But, she waited on me because she is my ride or die.

That's love.

So, I always speak of this midday nap that woke me up. I immediately admitted to myself that I had a problem. I called to schedule rehab for the millionth time. But, this time I meant it. I was someone I didn't want to be. And, y'all, this was a minor drop in the blackout bucket. It was a few months after I claimed I was drugged because I lost some hours in Santiago...which was a few months after I lost some hours in NYC. It doesn't have to be a huge debacle that wakes you up. Sometimes it is just a swift paw to the face.